


Bolvangar Lights

by silveryink



Series: The Tales of Lee Scoresby [3]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Episode 6: The Daemon Cages, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Rated T for the violence, References to Once Upon a Time in the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveryink/pseuds/silveryink
Summary: The Station was ambushed by a group of gyptians determined to get their children back. Lee might not be a gyptian, but he'd sooner tear down the entire facility than give up on Lyra...
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Lee Scoresby
Series: The Tales of Lee Scoresby [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572472
Comments: 18
Kudos: 116





	Bolvangar Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Northern Lights  
> Hope you all enjoy!

Lee raised his rifle, levelled it with practiced ease, and pulled the trigger. His target, barely a few feet ahead, fell like a marionette with its strings cut, a swirl of Dust confirming his passing. A wisp of smoke curled up from the barrel of the rifle. Lee lowered it, feeling slightly guilty at killing a man without hesitation, but the feeling was quenched almost immediately when he saw the group of young girls huddled against the door. He swept a quick, searching gaze at them before catching Ma Costa’s eye. The gyptian woman shook her head ever so slightly and he nodded in silent response.

Lyra was elsewhere, then. Probably in the thick of the action, wherever it was. Lee raised his gun and let Hester’s sharp ear guide them to the closest path to the roof, the one which avoided most of the confrontation. This, of course, had the dual effect of keeping away any feelings of guilt at slaying fellow humans, while saving the bullets he had. Lee was far from a fool, and he knew that the best approach was that of stealth.

“Takes you back, huh, Hester?” he murmured as he strapped the gun to his back, lifting her into his coat so that he could climb the rungs of the ladder onto the platforms that wound around the Station, forming an effective defence layout for the Tartar recruits and an excellent vantage point for any stragglers inside.

“To what, McConville shootin’ a hole through your ear?” Hester asked dryly. “Lee, to your left.”

Lee ducked and tugged out the revolver from its holster. Not letting go of the rung, he deftly cocked it and followed Hester’s senses to get a general location of his target. When he was absolutely certain of his estimate, he hoisted himself up above the cover of the wall and fired, hitting a soldier square in the chest. The wolf-dæmon beside him howled and collapsed, but Lee ignored the noise. He pulled himself up and was gratified to find that he didn’t have to waste another bullet in ending the man, whose dæmon had vanished by the time Lee could ready his next shot.

“Well, there’s nowhere to go but forward,” he muttered, and carefully made his way across the narrow bridge. He couldn’t avoid combat the whole time, though, and he soon found himself in a brawl with another Tartar.

“Is that all you got?” he cried out, easily warding off the man’s punches. “I – _ack_!”

While he’d been distracted by the soldier’s advances, the man’s dæmon – also a wolf, he’d forgotten about the Sibirsk regiment’s ferocity – had snuck up and cornered Hester, stretching across the length of their bond. Lee knew that he’d have to pull something risky if he had to end that horrible tug at his heart. Hester didn’t say a word, didn’t move an inch, as Lee positioned himself for what any mentor would have cuffed him for.

He locked eyes with Hester, who pushed herself further against the wall, muscles tensing in preparation for their next move. Lee did what was probably the last thing he should have done, he moved back, steadily ignoring the constricting around his lungs as he pulled harder at the bond. Hester didn’t so much as make a sound, golden eyes watching keenly for the moment to strike.

Lee felt ice-cold metal at the back of his hand, and waited a beat. The soldier had followed him, cautious to not lose his own advantage, when Lee pushed back with all his might, ducking low to kick the man’s legs from under him. The man lost balance, and Lee used the rest of his momentum to push him off the ledge, feeling an instant relief when Hester leaped over the struggling wolf-dæmon into his arms. The two of them lay silently for a minute, the world around them barely a haze of white, simply breathing. Then the sounds of the fight returned, and Lee sat up with a grunt.

“I really hate fighting,” he grumbled, as Hester nestled into the large pocket in his coat.

“Too late to complain,” Hester retorted. “Now get a move on, we need to find Lyra.”

Lee ran across the maze of platforms across the Station, trying to find the epicentre of the fight. If he knew anything about Lyra by now, it was that she was usually involved right in the middle of things, whether or not she wanted to be. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late, that they weren’t all late and the cold scientists of Bolvangar hadn’t fulfilled their mission after all and cut away Lyra’s soul like that of little Billy Costa. Lee picked up his speed, guilt gnawing away at his conscience at losing her in the first place.

He might have been the first one – aside from Kaisa – to spot the Station, thanks to the view from his balloon, but what would that mean in the face of losing Lyra, the girl who’d come all this way simply to rescue her best friend? What would it mean if the kid who she’d come to find was lost too? This whole venture could end up rather badly for all of them if they lost the ones they’d come to find.

Lee spotted an atrium where there seemed to be most of the conflict, and barely registered a slight figure in red just outside the door as he leaped off and landed lightly in the snow. He rolled to absorb the shock of his impact, pulling out his revolver as he straightened. He spotted a soldier running towards an already outnumbered John Faa and fired, the sound loud and echoing across the hall. He fired a few more times, and reached for his trusty Winchester when the harsh noise of bullets was replaced by a soft click.

He swore softly and looked up. There it was, above them all in the rafters when he needed it most. It would be easy to retrieve, were they not in the midst of seemingly impossible odds. Lee shoved his revolver back into the holster and punched the next incoming Magisterium officer in the face. An eerie silence fell across the space as he felt the cold bite of a knife at his neck. He stilled and flicked his gaze around. The gyptians were outnumbered, and for a moment time seemed to still.

A dark blur flitted through the crowd of fighters, and everyone was too stunned to notice that the Tartars and Magisterium officers were dropping left and right, just as the blur left their side to another. Lee spotted the familiar thorn-pattern on Serafina Pekkala’s bare shoulder as she ran her bolt through his attacker. She paused for a fraction of a second before him – something he might have missed were it not for the momentary disappearance of the haze around her – before zipping forward and burying her bolt in the chest of a white-coated woman. Her form solidified then, and Serafina glared at everyone, regal in her fury, before taking back to the skies.

Lee smirked a bit, rubbing a thumb between Hester’s ears. He’d formed an unlikely alliance with the witch queen during one of his travels, and she’d managed to guide him safely out of firing range of another witch who had pursued his balloon across half the Arctic Circle. Their first conversation had been incredibly awkward, at least for Lee, but that had been far from the only time they’d encountered each other.

Hester wiggled in his pocket, and he took it as a sign to let her free to hop before him as he scanned the room for Lyra. A young boy in the coal-silk coat of the Station entered through the door, followed by a group of children with close-shaven hair, whose eyes were as empty as Billy Costa’s had been. The breath rushed out of him like a _panserbjørn_ had pushed against his chest. God, was Lyra-

Even as he formed the thought, a tan blur, not unlike Serafina’s own appearance, collided with him, nearly knocking him over. He braced himself on one leg and half spun as he wrapped his arms instinctively around Lyra. He chuckled, relieved that she was not a part of the blank faces among the crowd of blanketed children and simultaneously guilty at thinking that. His heart went out to the poor kids, but his priority right now was to ensure that Lyra was okay.

“Lyra, gal, it’s good to see you.”

She didn’t reply, but buried her face in his chest, breathing hard. He sighed and let himself relax, pulling her securely against him. Barely a foot away from him, Pantalaimon – Arctic fox-shaped – had settled comfortably against Hester, his tail wrapped around her much in the way Lyra was tightly holding on to Lee.

“How’d you get here?” Lyra’s voice was muffled and the question only half audible, but Lee caught enough to respond.

“I flew here, as soon as we found out you were missing.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, pulling back. At his puzzled look, she rambled on, “I heard something in the middle of the night, and I thought – well, we didn’t know what it was, so Pan and I went to check what it was, and the Tartars caught us and we couldn’t speak, because they knocked us out-”

“Breathe, gal,” Lee interrupted, slightly alarmed. “Lyra, they probably would have gone through the entire camp to find you regardless. The fire from the funeral must have given away our position. It ain’t your fault, child,” he stressed, because she didn’t seem to believe him. “I’m just glad we were in time to find you.”

At this, she paled, but Lee didn’t have time to pursue this reaction since Iorek lumbered up to them and lightly nudged his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance for the second time in as many minutes.

“It is good to see you, Lyra,” Iorek said.

“Oh, Iorek, dear, I saw you fight – you were _awfully_ brave-”

And just like that, Lyra went on to chatter their ears off. Lee chuckled and led them slowly to his balloon, which he’d abandoned without a second thought in his desperation to look for Lyra. They were headed up further North, he knew, from the way she and Ma Costa spoke. The older woman nodded in his direction as Lee readied the balloon for their departure. They seemed to have reached an agreement regarding Lyra’s care, in the few days Lee had been part of their travel.

Lyra bounded up onto the balloon, happily talking to a boy Lee supposed must have been the infamous Roger Parslow, and Lee finally let himself relax.

Lyra was here, Lyra was safe. He could look after her now.

Mere hours later, as he watched her sinking into the darkness of a valley, he wondered just how true that was.


End file.
